Re: Over the Music Shop: Daniel W/Newt P
Eventually the cat, wandering a few steps to the edge of the bed and then back, warmed to Newt's presence, possibly to spite Daniel, who had made enough noise and scattered destruction to put her in a mood. There wasn't quite purring, but she allowed her soft ears to be stroked and her chin to be scratched before she broke off the introductory affection, just to establish boundaries dictated by whim. She jumped off the bed and went to go sit on Newt's discarded jacket and christian it with a great deal of white cat fur.
The mortal in the room had Daniel's full and absolute attention. He wasn't even the tasting the wine, he was just watching Newt; watching his gaze wander around the room as if there was something else to see, watching his hands out for the cat, watching him rise from his crouch. The name just made him blink slowly. "The shopkeepers." It was not a question, because the name was just an association, not any real identification. By now there were probably a great deal of Penhaligons in the world. For a split second padded by the warm oak-and-blackberry warmth of red wine, Daniel's hazy brown eyes focused on the thing Newt had pulled out of his pocket.
Daniel's experience with wizards (men, at the time, in a Europe grown hazy with his memory) had certainly been distant. He had no experience with their faces, the scents, any sounds that might differentiate from humans of lesser ability (but potentially greater training). But he knew that with the innocuous bit of stick in his hand, Newt could set him on fire. And after the fire, the battle would be quite short indeed, unless he moved first. Vampires were fast. They were so fast that most mortals would not see them move. Wizards, of course, were also fast. And this vampire was sauced.
These things happened, in the following order. Daniel got up in one smooth, tight-shouldered movement. He dropped the glass. He lunged - not at Newt, but just to one side of him, to avoid the wand as if it were about to spit a bullet a hundred times less dangerous to him. Black eyes and sharp white teeth glinted. He grabbed for Newt's wrist with his own cold, vice-like grip. The glass shattered at the foot of the chair ten feet away.